


We are a Sum of Our Parts

by aaabattery



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apartment AU, Asexual Character, Elle is over protective, Healthy asexual-allosexual relationships, M/M, No one believes Derek actually needs a cup of sugar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaabattery/pseuds/aaabattery
Summary: Spencer Reid is the type of guy you overlook at the coffee shop, at the library, and he prefers it. Shy and mild mannered, the small apartment he hides in most days is his sanctuary. Derek Morgan is the guy no one overlooks -- attractive and strong, he’s the sort of guy that draws eyes everywhere he goes, all except for the quiet boy who lives next door. Spencer Reid is an enigma, and no one seems to know who he is -- just that he’s been there for years.[ Apartment AU // Moreid, minor background pairings ]





	1. Cup of Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta-ed. Thanks for reading this!

The whole ‘borrow a cup of sugar’ knock is a load of bull, and they both know it. But the kid, Spencer Reid, the buzzer by the front door tells him, apparently hoards sugar like he hoards books. Derek wonders how often the kid gets visitors. Every available surface is covered in mounds of books, but the kid himself clearly has a day job, given by how put together (even if his clothes make him look both much younger than he is sure he is, but also the fashion sense makes Derek think of his grandfather) he is. The kid doesn’t say much, just moves around the kitchen with ease.

“You’ve got a lot of books here, kid.” Derek comments, picking one up. It was in Russian, he _thinks_ , but Derek spoke enough Spanish to pass the class in college he was required to take and that was it. He set it down. Spencer’s lip involuntarily pouted, and he smirked, taking it as a victory.

He gets down a bag of sugar, clearly something he used a lot of though where.it went was a mystery. The guy was a twig. He didn’t look like he had any muscle, much less fat on him. “It’s ‘Doctor’ actually, not kid.” The boy speaks, for the first time since letting him inside and Derek realizes he probably looked surprised. The man rolled hazel eyes and extended a hand, “Do you have a cup or do you need to borrow that too?” The humor is dry and unexpected and Derek bark’s out a laugh.

Spencer jumps, and he feels a bit bad, the sound is rather loud, especially for someone who looks like they live in the quiet. A sheepish smile curls the darker complexioned man’s lips, “Nope, forgot one.” He said, before smirking, “Figured if I borrowed the cup _and_ the sugar, I could come see you again.”

He watched him look confused for a second before his words dawned on him. He did a great, unintentional, impression of a fish and his cheeks went vivid red. He said nothing in retort, just scooped the sugar into a mug -- _another_ item he had copious amounts of and shoved it into his hands, all but pushing him out the door. Derek stood a bit dumbfounded in the hallway, blinking dazedly. “Was it something I said?” He muttered to himself as he heard the deadbolt slide into place.

A less-than-friendly hand landed on his shoulder. The woman was shorter than him copper toned hair naturally curled, and her lips set in a frown, “You leave him alone. He doesn’t need you coming around and screwing with his heart.” The woman drips venom and distaste, brushing past Derek to produce a key, unlocking the door and openning it enough to slide off the deadbolt, slipping inside and closing the door behind him.

If he was confused before he was utterly clueless now. Was the girl Spencer’s girlfriend? No offense to the kid, but she looked like she’d be more likely to hurt him then Derek would. “That’s Elle. She’s been coming around since Ethan left. They aren’t dating. Just good friends.” The voice is calm, and Derek expects another brush off, but instead, the blonde woman offers a bright grin, “You new around here?” She asks, and Derek just nods, thrown through a loop by her brightness. “Come on in for some tea. I’m Penelope by the way, I live down a floor. I figured I’d come up and greet you anyway, but since you’re outside it makes it easier.”

The woman had an air of confidence and they took to each other well. From her he learned that Spencer was 25, mostly kept to himself, and that he was a professor at the local college. He’d lived there seven years, since he was 18. Elle, him, and another guy had shared the apartment. Three years ago he and the other roommate, Ethan, had a rather vocal falling out over the other man’s drinking habits -- Ethan walked out and he retreated more to himself ever since. Elle was the only steady person who came to visit, usually every other day, who worked at a bar uptown. She'd moved out a few months ago from living there. “She isn’t mean,” Penelope assured him, “just a bit protective since Ethan.” They’d apparently been friends since before Spencer moved here, and the three had shown up together -- Las Vegas, she thought she’d heard.

It was all she really knew, aside from the fact he ate _far_ too much take out and wasn’t fond of vegetables. When Derek inquired as to qhy she knew so much of his young neighbor’s eating habits she smiled, and explained she left him plates of food so he got some sort of balanced nutrition.

As he stood and excused himself, she caught him lightly on the shoulder, “Derek Morgan, I don’t know what your intentions are with Spencer Reid but don’t hurt him, okay. Poor kids been through enough.” He looked affronted, and a bit confused.

Why did everyone assume he wanted to bone the kid? He returned to his apartment and worked a bit on some small things, headed out to work, and then back around 2am. As he arrived, Elle was leaving, closing the door softly. She arched a brow, and he returned the favor.

“Spencer told me to be nicer to you, so here’s me being nicer to you,” She kept her voice down, “Keep your womanizing ass away from him, _please_. You’ve got ‘serial heartbreaker’ written all over you.” Honestly, before tonight (today) he never met someone who could make _please_ sound as the equivalent to ‘I’ll kill you’. The whole apartment was weird, and Derek settled into bed, barely changing out of his uniform before he collapsed asleep.

The next few days passed the same way, and Derek didn’t see much of the boy next door, but that didn’t mean much. Penelope Garcia’s food, was always there when he left for work and gone when he returned. He’d done a bit of goggling, the kid was sort of famous -- 12 year old graduate from Las Vegas, three PhDs, and had written several dozen articles. He currently taught Chemistry at Georgetown. His neighbor was a genius, then. He glanced over at the counter, the mug was still there. Now or never.

It was around six, and he knocked on the door. There was some shuffling, and a pause, before the lock on the door clicked and the deadbolt slid away. The kid had clearly only recently got home, but was wearing fewer layers than he last saw, now just wearing a button up and khakis.

“Oh---Derek.” The kid smiled, nervously, but let him in without much thought. “You came to return the mug?” He asked, and Derek must have looked confused because the younger man smiled, ducking his head, shyly, “It’s in your hands. Logic dictates you’d come to return it. Unless you needed another cup of sugar; in which case, I’d make you go buy your own.” It’s a joke, and he smiles still and lifts his head.

Smiles like that are the kind that old, dead poets wrote about. The kind that old, dead Europeans launched wars about. Those smiles were the kind girls dreamed about princes having. _Damn, I need to get laid_. Derek shook himself free from his thoughts to nod, offering him the cup. Spencer took it, and hesitated. It didn’t take a genius to read the battle of indecision on his face, “Did you--want some dinner? Miss Garcia always gives me way too much, so there are leftovers. But there’s more then enough for the two of us, if you’d like. I recognize that Elle probably alarmed you the other day and I just wanted to apologize in person. She means well.” He’s rambling, and Derek wonders if this is the ‘real’ Spencer -- a rambling, sort of nervous kid.

The older man grinned, “Sure.” He nodded, and the boy smiled again.


	2. A Musical Interlude

Garcia was  _ very _ eager to hear the details of the previous evening, and that was how Derek Morgan once more found himself on the plush pink couch of the blonde’s living room, once again. He wasn’t the type to kiss and tell (though there was no kissing to tell of), but the sentiment remained. The blonde happily blew on her mug od tea to cool it, eyes bright and eager to hear about this.

“Nothing happened. He invited me in to eat with him. We ate and we talked a bit. That’s it. No cheesy declarations of love or anything.” Derek shrugged, shaking his head and relaxing back on the couch.

“So you admit you’re in love with him?” The woman asked, a cat like grin curling her lips.

He balked for a second, frown curling his lips and protests bubbling.  “No! I’m not in love with him. Jeez, babygirl, I just met him. He’s handsome, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better in a ‘non-apartment’ setting, but that’s it. I don’t even know if I even like him or not. Just that he’s handsome and pretty cool.” A shrug. Non-committal. The blonde chuckled into her cup but let the issue drop.

Conversation turned towards Garcia and her on-off boyfriend Kevin Lynch. After 20 more minutes, Derek excused himself, allowing a hug from he as he left. “If you want something to happen you need to do something about it, Derek, he’s a bit slow on picking up on romantic cues.”  She said as he left.

Derek was annoyed -- partly at himself. Who did this kid think he was? Derek wasn’t the type to stay with someone excessively long. Not due to lack of love, but lack of building and communication and ability to make long term commitment. He loved his job, but he had plans to move up to work for the FBI, and it was glamorous to say, but he knew if he got where he wanted, he’d travel a lot. He’d dated men and women (though mostly women, but it was more that Derek found little time to actively look at men due to his fear of isolating himself for his preferences than lack of trying). 

And Derek wasn’t one to stereotype for sexuality, but there was no way the kid was wholly only interested in women. And if he was then Derek would move on. From wherever he was. Which he still had no clue on. The other made him feel weird butterfly things -- that usually only happened to others when Derek fancied  _ them _ . Not to him. Usually he got a different sort of butterflies. Not to say he didn’t find Spencer very, very attractive, but he made a habit not to visualize his neighbors as such without confirmation they’d be okay with such things. He was a gentleman, after all.

But, as Derek neared their neighboring apartments, he forced himself into action. A date -- a  _ friendly  _ date -- to the movies. Derek wasn’t  _ scared _ of rejection. Not really. He didn’t get  _ scared _ . He was someone who liked people often, who dated a lot. Made first moves. But there was a difference now. He was fairly sure if this was a musical this is the point where there would be a two-sided duet that neither could hear the other singing about their declarations of hidden or unknown feelings. But, shoving thoughts of the musicals that his sisters used to belt to in the car from his brain, he knocked. 

There was a running of feet to the door, and it swung open. But the face looking up at him was not Spencer’s, but belonged to a young, small blonde boy. The child looked confused, and was probably about seven, “Uncle Spence! There’s a guy here!” He called into the apartment. The cop watched the younger man come into sight, paint covering his hands and the oversized t-shirt that was protecting his usual clothes. “Is he a good guy?”

A chuckle from his neighbor, “Yes, Henry, he’s a good guy. This is my neighbor, Derek. Can you go back to painting? I’ll be right back in.” The boy nodded, gave one last look to Derek and took off back to the kitchen. “Sorry -- I'm babysitting my godson. His mom and dad are both busy with work, and they asked if I’d watch him a few hours.”

“Sounds like you guys are having fun at least. Looks that way, too.” Derek joked, gesturing to his hands and shirt, “How much of the mess is his?” He teased. 

Spencer laughed, and Derek attempted to squash the butterflies that resurfaced at the sound. “Only some. I’m not the neatest finger painter. Did you need something, though?” It isn’t rude or attempting to push him away, merely just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Derek could tell. Before he could answer though, the other raised a finger to stop talking and paused, listening. He stayed quiet a moment, and hearing the soft humming from the child, turned back to look at Derek. “Children are only getting into mischief when they are utterly silent.”

“You sure? My sisters and I caused plenty of it at the top of our lungs.” He joked, before clearing his throat. “I was just wanting to know if you’d want to come see a movie tonight. There’s a decent cinema not far from here that plays B-grade horror movies on Friday nights.” He offered, casually. Last night they’d discussed their favorite movie genres, horror being one of Spencer’s favorites. And Derek loved older, horribly done horror movies.

He saw the other look surprised and his cheeks tinted, and a small, almost shy smile curled his lips. Spencer looked pretty like that. Not in a bad way, but in a terribly attractive and  _ pretty _ way. But he nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear, “Sure, sure. So, seven, then?”

“Six, if you’d want. We could grab some dinner before?” He offered, a lazy grin, hiding the cheering he felt inside. A pause, as the other nodded, “I don’t have your number, which would help.” Derek offered the genius his phone and in return, Spencer handed him his. He could see Garcia wanting to cry over the piece of antique technology that was Spencer’s phone. A very dated IPhone 4 in a basic case that was surprisingly well maintained, if ancient. Somehow though, it fit him well.

“Six, then. Thanks.” They traded phones back and parted ways, and Derek felt like a gleeful child. 


	3. A Well Rehearsed Speech

Derek was there at six on the dot, wearing his version of ‘dressed up’ -- a clean black t-shirt and clean, dark washed jeans. He raised a hand, and knocked once. The door was opened not by Spencer, but by a pretty blonde who was definitely the mother to the child he had met earlier. She had said boy by one hand, and the child, Henry, waved to Derek as he passed, his mother giving him a warm, friendly smile as well.

  
At least one of Spencer’s friends was fine with this. Elle was absent (thankfully) as he stepped into the main area. It was just as cluttered as usual -- if even more so, due to the fact there had been a child running around earlier. “Hey, it’s Derek!” He called.

  
“Give me a second.” Spencer called back from the room that was likely his bedroom (given the fact their apartment layouts were identical, and that was where Derek’s bedroom was. When the younger man stepped out, Derek felt suddenly a bit under dressed, but he knew it was just how Spencer dressed. Button up and corduroys, Converse sneakers and a vest that he was still buttoning as he left the room. He gave a shy, but brilliant smile.

  
The butterflies sprang back into action, “Looking good, pretty boy.” He only half-joked to hide his nervousness and ease some of Spencer’s visible nerves. The man colored brightly in his pale cheeks as he gathered his things into his messenger bag. They headed out, the door locking behind them.

  
The whole night was ahead, and Derek was eager to spend it with him. The restaurant was nice and they made small talk, mostly about how Spencer liked teaching, what his students were like and his college years (the man had a lot of interesting stories, in Derek’s opinion, but the other could be talking about anything and he’d love it). The movie was fun. Spencer was a horrible person to take to the movies, but also the best person he had taken to a movie in a while. He kept a near-running commentary of facts and criticisms of the movie going for Derek, and it was cute and dorky and nice.

  
He felt like a dumb teen, stretching an arm ‘slyly’ over the back of the seats and over Spencer’s shoulder. He didn’t even bring up when he noticed the other start to relax and lean into him. Once the movie was over, they decided to walk for a bit, just enjoying the nice night. They talked a bit, and Spencer finally settled on a bench. He was quiet for a while, fidgeting with his hands. Derek was confused, as it was the first time he had been silent all night. Until then, Spencer really was only quiet when he was listening to Derek, now a silence fell over them. Not exactly awkward, but strange all the same. Suddenly, the younger man jerked his body so he was sitting sideways, facing Derek.  
“You okay, pretty boy?” He asked, half-teasing with the nickname, but mostly serious in the question. Spencer nodded.

  
The genius took a breath, and Derek braced himself for a ‘I’m just not that into you’ line. He’d given it many times before. It was just a fact of life. But what he said caught him off guard, “Do you want to have sex?”

  
A blink, confusion in his own brown eyes, but Spencer’s hazel ones are, while a bit advertised, very serious. Clearly this was going somewhere, but he was a bit confused. He hadn’t pegged Spencer for a public-sex type person (especially on the first real ’date’), but something told him this was more than that. “Now? Not especially. Outdoors isn’t exactly what _gets me going_ , you know?” A try at a joke.

  
To his credit, Spencer grins a bit, small and clearly amused at something (not necessarily Derek, but something in his own mind, perhaps), but he nods, “Nothing gets me going.”

  
“Huh?” Derek is beyond confused, but Spencer looks resignedly used to this, and Derek feels bad, but he is not at all sure about what the other said.

  
“I’m asexual, Derek. This is my upfront disclaimer. I make it before go into any relationships, because it’s not fair if either of us enter on unequal or confusing footing. I don’t experience sexual attraction and have no desire for sexual intercourse. If that is something you need in a relationship, then I have no hard feelings and am more than happy to part ways as good friends and neighbors.”

  
The speech is rehearsed and practiced. Repeated and repeated and memorized because there was something behind it. A world of pain that made this need to be stated, and Derek didn’t want to think too much on who had tried to hurt Spencer enough that he felt the need to rehearse something like this. But a bigger part was curious. Derek grew up in a fairly liberal home in Chicago. But he knew only basics of sexuality -- there was Gay, Straight, Bisexual. Derek found he most closely identified with the latter. Transgender was a thing, but he didn’t have much experience with it in his life or in his friends lives. At college he never really interacted outside of a core social group, though he was fairly social. However, in the circles he ran in as a teen and young adult, straight was an assumption you didn’t argue with.

  
So, the term was intriguing. He’d been silent, and Spencer was tranquil, his eyes having turned to look up at the sky, clearly understanding Derek needed to process it.  
“Oh -- okay. So -- do you not like...kiss or anything?” It’s a silly question he feels, but he hopes he doesn’t come off as insensitive.

  
Instead, Spencer laughs, loudly, in fact. He smiles and shakes his head, and then, in what Derek decides seems uncharacteristically bold (or perhaps he just assumed Spencer was as shy as he presented their first few meetings) move, he kisses his cheek. It’s just a short peck, but Derek can feel the heat and is grateful it isn’t as visible as Spencer’s is. Yes. Definitely feeling like a teenager. “No, kissing is fine. So is holding hands, cuddling ,things like that. Sex is just -- not something I find interest in, you know?”

  
Derek did not know, not personally, but he knew that Spencer was Spencer. Regardless of sex, he still liked him though. “Alright.” A nod, and he stands, offering his hand to the other, “You’re a teacher, and teacher’s like research, right? Do you have any papers or articles I could read?” He asked, a bit awkwardly. It was strange. Spencer seemed so comfortable and suddenly Derek felt out of his element and unsure and confused.

  
But he also felt glad, because in all that rehearsal Spencer had said he told it to anyone he ‘wanted a relationship with’. So, Derek felt he was in pretty good hands in that respect. Plus, there was loads to do without involving sex. Spencer hadn’t let got of his hand yet, and Derek took that once more as a good sign as they headed back to their respective apartments. It was a nice date, he decided, an interesting one as well. It was nearly midnight as they got back to the apartment building. Spencer paused, looking at their hands, which hadn’t disconnected much since the park.

  
“Does this mean--?” He began, sort of unsure, but there was a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

  
Derek grinned himself, big and wide and warm. The kid was pretty cute. Cute and handsome, to be fair, though. And he shrugged, nonchalantly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. It was nice -- he and Spencer were the same height (though Spencer slouched a bit), so he could easily pull it off.

  
“Yeah, it does. I don’t have to work until second shift tomorrow -- if you want to grab some breakfast? Or even just some coffee…” A shrug, and a small grin.

  
Spencer made a face, “I sleep in on Saturdays.” He pointed out, pouting.

  
“So -- I’ll bring you coffee in the morning, then?” He joked, and the other man nodded, unable to help a grin.

  
A pause, Spencer moved to his door, unlocking it, “I had fun -- and...thanks for understanding. I can give you a few articles tomorrow, if you want?” He offered, shyly.

  
“Sounds good. Sleep well, pretty boy.”

  
“You too, Derek.”


	4. Shovel Talks

At just barely 5’8”, Elle Greenaway should not be as terrifying as she was to the well built, 6’2” Derek Morgan. She was much like anything wild and protective of her home and her family -- not exactly terrifying until she was in your face. Elle was clearly not happy with Derek, and he suspected it had to do with the impromptu date from last night and the fact he was currently sitting on the couch with Spencer curled into his side with fresh, hot coffee from the cafe and two half eaten doughnuts set to the side.

To his credit, if Spencer noticed the tension radiating from the woman he didn’t show any sign of it. He pushed away from Derek, though, and smiled a half smile and announced he was making a run to grab the mail from downstairs and in that second he knew he’d been set up. Ambushed into having to sit in a room with Elle for several minutes while she glowered at him and Spencer left him. Cheeky, manipulative little genius.

He shouldn’t be scared of the woman -- but he was. Not because she could kill him, but because she meant a lot to Spencer and he knew if he planned to be long-term with Spencer he’d have to battle her. The door closed and Elle was closing in, like a lioness. He held his ground, meeting her glare with a level look. Her lips, painted red (with the blood of her victims?) curled into a smirk. 

“Derek Morgan, I know you went on a date with Spencer last night. I know he was very, very happy about it, too. I know he is head over heels for you, despite it being a ridiculously short amount of time. Spencer isn’t fragile or weak, even if he acts like he is.” A frown, poking a manicured finger at his chest. “He can handle a breakup -- if it comes to it, do it gently. But he needs me to do what he won’t do -- give you flat out a warning. He’s been hurt in the past by guys exactly like you and I swear on all things holy, if you ever, ever hurt him or push him in anyway I will happily make sure your friends at the police department can’t even identify what remains. Understand?” It was cold, in a way, but he understood. 

Derek wasn’t an enemy -- he was an unfamiliar player. He was an unknown variable. To her credit, Elle was intimidating and accurate in many ways. He had no doubt Spencer could handle a breakup if it came to that (eventually), but he also knew he wouldn’t dare hurt Spencer in the way he knew she was implying. He nodded, and cracked a smile, “Crystal clear, cupcake.” He teased. The woman’s body language relaxed, not entirely, but a bit, and she hit him hard in the arm, it would have been ‘playful’ -- if it didn’t hurt.

“Call me cupcake again and I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to the pigeons.” It was an idle threat. Not friends, no -- but there was an understanding there. Elle moved towards the door as Spencer opened it, two packages and several letters in his arms. The older woman pecked Spencer’s cheek and he grinned, waving ‘goodbye’ to her as best he could as he all but bounced into the living room, chattering to Derek

“Guess what? My Halloween decorations came today -- I ordered some new ones because it was boring using the same ones and I found cute ones online.” He babbled a bit about the decorations, flipping through the envelopes and chattering on. Derek stayed a little longer before he got a call -- they needed him down at the precinct early to cover someone's shift. He smiled as he got to leave, accepting the hug he got as a departing act and pecked his cheek, enjoying the soft flush that colored his partner's cheeks.

The day moved on -- from later morning to early afternoon. Spencer began the set up of his decorations for his favorite holiday. Halloween was his favorite Holiday, and despite it being three months away, he was setting up decorations on the door when a pale faced JJ ran up to him, out of breath. Needless to say, the genius was alarmed and concerned, but he paled as well when he heard -- both JJ's husband, Will, and Derek were hurt in a shootout with a suspect. They'd been taken to the ER. Barely remembering shoes and his keys, he booked it out the apartment complex after her. 

The hospital felt like it was hours away and he talked his way into seeing Derek only due to the fact he was on exceptional terms with both the nurse, Jordan, and the receptionist, Ashley. He pushed through the door to the room, where Derek was laying. Not even two days into dating and he was watching the man in a hospital bed. If this was a set up for their relationship, he might have to rethink this.

When Derek came to, there were two people hovering over him. Spencer Reid, who looked like a nervous wreck and an equally as worried Penelope Garcia, but she was crying. "Hey, hey, babygirl -- I'm alive, chill. They got me pretty good though. How's LaMontange?" A glance to Spencer and then back to the blonde who laughed shakily.

"Will's good. JJ and Henry are with him. He got it pretty easy compared to you." Spencer frowned as he sat back down, fidgeting with the bed covers. On instinct, Derek's hand reached out and took Spencer's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "The doctors said you could have died. The bullet ricocheted. Almost hit your lung. You weren't wearing your vest." His tone is quick, words shaky and nervous. And Derek felt more worried about Spencer than himself.

He scooted up a bit more, catching the younger man's chin in his hand, "Hey -- kid, kid, look at me. I could have, but I didn't. It's a hazard of the job. Win some, lose some. Please, don't worry so much. I'll survive. I'm stronger than you might think." He joked with the last line, blinking as the man all but engulfed him in a tight hug. An embrace meant to reassure them both. They were safe and sound. 

It felt like a cheesy movie. Get the guy -- major climactic event to follow. If it was a musical (he wasn't sure he wasn't fully convinced it wasn't) they'd be singing a passionate duet about their love right now. But Derek wasn't sure what this was, yet, but whatever it was, he wanted it.

The day wore on, he was being kept overnight for observation, and night found Spencer curled up on the same bed as him (the man was incredibly small and had all but wrapped himself up against Derek) breathing even and calm. Things were working out -- even if he was in a hospital bed with quite a bit of recovery ahead of him.


	5. Setup

It had been a bit over a week since Derek returned from the hospital and Spencer was hovering and worrying. If not at work, he was settled at Derek’s kitchen table, making sure he didn’t go and try and be stupid and overexert himself. The man was stubborn as a mule, but Spencer was equally as stubborn, meaning until Spencer pulled out puppy dog eyes, Derek could hold his own.

It was Tuesday and he was returning from the college, coffee fresh in his hands. He knocked more for politeness than actually caring, before pushing into the room -- a startling sight greeted him. Derek was on the couch, and there were two women (his sisters, he recognized from the photos that hung on walls and on the mantel) and an older woman in the kitchen (his mother, once again, from photos). The women stared at Spencer and Spencer stared back, looking mildly horrified, “Should I come back later?” The man stumbled out. One of the women laughed and arose, but Derek was faster, even in recovery. He slipped an arm around his partner’s waist and gave him a soothing grin.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ at the end, grinning like an evil child. It suddenly clicked that this was an ambush...likely as payback for abandoning Derek with Elle. “Usually, meeting the family comes under better circumstances, but they flew in as a surprise from Chicago. I thought we could surprise _you_ a bit.” He tugged him further into the room, much to his anxious dismay. His partner, how he loathed the bulkier man at that moment, moved away, checking his watch, exclaiming about having forgotten Penelope needed his help with a computer thing, and hurried out. **_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here._ **

The sinister words echoed in his head. He didn’t like people -- meeting parents wasn’t something they planned on -- Derek talked a lot about his mom, and his sisters, but only a little over a week into the shy courtship, he hadn’t expected to meet them for a while. He suddenly felt anxiety creeping up. This was it -- they’d decide he wasn’t good enough and that would be it. He and Derek would be done before they had even really started.

But they weren’t awful. They weren’t as scary and horrible as he was expecting. It was less like pulling teeth or an interrogation and more like -- well, grown adults talking cheerfully. They didn’t pry into his own life excessive -- just basic things. They asked what he did and Spencer explained he was a teacher, and they chatted easily. Spencer liked them. They were fun and endearing and nice.

Apparently Derek had talked about him a lot, making him unwillingly flush, much to the sisters amusement. The two were quite fond of him, and Derek’s mother insisted he taste-test what was going to be dinner. Overall, the three made him feel surprisingly at ease, a rare feat for the usually skittish and nervous male. Derek returned 15 minutes later, casually, only to find his mother quite happily telling an embarrassing story from when he was much younger. Spencer grinned at the other.

“Well, I see you’ve settled right on in.” He said, with a roll of his eyes as he leaned down, kissing his partner’s head softly, making Spencer’s cheeks light up again. The chatter continued through dinner and dessert, before the women bid their farewells and headed out for the night.

Once they were gone, Spencer moved to the couch, collapsing tiredly. When Derek sat down, he settled against him. “You’re mean.” He mumbled, face mostly hidden against his shoulder. Derek laughed, pulling his boyfriend close.

“You love it though.” He pointed out, easily. Spencer’s body tensed, and Derek felt it and knew he’d screwed up, “Sorry, ah, too soon?” He asked, a concerned look, warm and curious on his face. It was actually sweet, Spencer thought, that Derek cared about his comfortability level.

A beat, “No one ever said it before -- not in this sort of context.” He swallowed. A small smile curled his lips, “You make my dopamine and serotonin levels increase with your presence.” he said, softly. Derek thought it sounded really dorky, but he also knew that even declarations like that could be very hard for Spencer, so he grinned, tugging his even tighter into his side.

“Yeah, you do that to me too, kid.” He teased. The genius by his side, things seemed okay. Things were good.


	6. Who Tells Your Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain mentions of abuse, alcoholism, and mild mentions of non-con elements in relation to asexuality. nothing graphic or such happens, but there is a mention of it. I will also contain brief mentions and implications of Derek's childhood abuse at the hands of Carl Buford.

It was nearly a month since Spencer met Derek’s family. The two had gone on several more dates -- as well as more ‘casual things’, such as Spencer dragging Derek to his godson’s science fair to show off the experiment he had helped his godson make. Spencer looked so happy, just to hold Derek’s hand, and seemed oblivious to the stares that lingered a bit longer on them then on the other couples. Derek found it annoying, but Spencer seemed blind to it all, or at least didn’t notice it. Things were getting more serious, at least less like a high school romance and more like a functional adult relationship. The two had talked a bit more -- mostly about their pasts. Derek talked about his dad dying and why he moved to DC, Spencer talked about college as a 12 year old, but seemed to carefully carve around mentions of his parents or of his ex. Whenever Derek brought it up, the younger male closed off, and needless to say, he wasn’t going to pry. He knew Spencer would tell him eventually. 

It was midway through September when Derek started to notice Spencer pulling away -- not in a ‘I’m breaking up and not having feelings for you anymore’ way, but in a ‘something happened and i’m going to self-isolate and bottle it up sort of way’. Early on, it was easy to tell Spencer was the sort who dealt with things on his own, and Derek has a suspicion it stemmed from the fact his ‘friends’ seemed few and far between, and given the fact he skirted around his home and early life, he had a feeling there was something there. Still -- bottling it or not, curled up on the bathroom floor having what could only be described as a break down at 3am was not exactly what Derek considered ‘okay’...at all.

It was Elle who called him, Spencer wouldn’t let her in, and she hoped he could talk sense into his boyfriend. Derek had rushed to the apartment. Elle sighed, patted his shoulder and ducked out. She explained bare bones to him, what she had figured out, Spencer left around eleven, sent her a text saying he was visiting Derek, which she thought was odd. She stopped by around 2:30 after her shift at the bar got done, only to find him locked in the bathroom. 

Worry tightened his heart. Spencer wasn’t cheating -- he knew the genius better than that. But the fact he’d lied to  _ Elle _ ? This was serious, and clearly not something normal.

He approached the door, giving it a three knock tap. The crying went silent, but there was no sound of movement, “C’mon, pretty boy, open up and talk to me.” He implored, but the door stayed closed, but he heard Spencer shuffle, and based on the soft thump, had sat against the door. Giving into his inner ‘cliche movie moment’ of the day, Derek sat on the other side, with a sigh, soft and concerned. “I don’t care what this is about Spencer, I’m just scared.” He said.

“I’m fine. You should go.” He said, voice soft, watery. Definitely crying. “You don’t need this--”  
Derek’s voice cut him off, “Spencer, you listen to me -- I love you, to hell with anything else. I love you and I’ll be damned if I let you sit in the bathroom alone and sulk. Let me in. We don’t have to talk, just _please_ pretty boy, let me know you’re okay. You bottle things up, you shut me out and I know it’s scary, I know you’ve been hurt before, but _dammit,_ Spencer, I love you.” He whispered. There was movement and he stood. The door opened, and Spencer stood there, long arms curled around himself. He isn’t wearing his glasses, and by the way he blindly fumbles into Derek’s arms, it’s clear he isn’t wearing his contacts either. He wraps his arms around Derek’s bigger frame, burying his face against his neck. “Beathe, kid, breathe.” Derek murmured, rubbing a gentle hand on his back, soft and soothing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He repeated, voice muffled, and Derek holds him close, kissing his head.

“Spencer, breathe.” He said, gently, hand rubbing circles on his back. It takes a bit fir him to calm down enough, and Derek made him sit, dug around to find some herbal tea and made him sip it, just a few sips in hopes to warm him up. “Come on, it’s late -- let’s get you into bed.” Derek remarked, voice still warm and loving. “Please.”

The genius hesitated, “Stay -- please. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” There’s a childish note to his tone, but not the usual playful, silly childishness, but a sad, scared, fearfulness that Derek knows from the nights he’d crawl into his sister’s room after dad died, still a kid, still just a kid. 

He helps Spencer to the bed, watching him change. There is nothing sexual, nothing deeper than concern for his boyfriend, his  _ partner _ . Spencer is pulling a t-shirt on, but something catches his eye, his chest tightening. There is bruising on Spencer’s upper arms, like someone had gripped him tightly, a similar marking around his wrist. “Spencer--?” Derek’s voice is gentle. “What happened?” His voice, is level, soothing and concerned for the other.

To his credit, Derek holds his temper in, reigns in the need to beat whoever hurt him -- Spencer didn’t deserve that, no one did, but, God, not  _ Spencer _ . 

The younger man pauses, and he looks like a deer in headlights, and shrugs, trying to pass it off, “What do you mean?” His tone is innocent, but it cracks. Derek knows. He knows his pretty boy is hiding something and it scares him, because he remembers hiding things like that. Clearly his face gave away enough, because Spencer hesitates as he sits on the edge of the bed, “I--I went to see Ethan.” 

Derek knew very little about Spencer’s past romances. Elle gave away nothing, and what he knew from Garcia was he and Ethan had a loud falling out over drinking, but little more. Spencer never mentioned his past relationships, and Derek avoided mentioning his. But he kept silent, letting Spencer take his time. They settled into the bed, close together, Derek’s arms wrapped around Spencer’s frame as the curled back against the headboard.

It was ten minutes before Spencer spoke again, his mind wasn’t off -- Derek could tell. He was just organizing his thoughts. “I know I shouldn’t, but…” A small sigh, and exhale, curling closer, “He called me, around 10:30, he was drunk and upset and I caved, because I still worry, and so I went to meet him, we talked a bit, I drove him to his apartment, walked him to get into bed and…” his voice goes softer, but Derek holds his breath, enough to hear, “Nothing happened, he just got handsy, I told him I had a boyfriend and I didn’t want him touching me like that and he started getting upset -- hysterical, really. He grabbed me and shook me a bit. He let me go and broke down crying. I consoled him enough that he wasn’t awful and called one of his roommates. As I was going to leave, he grabbed my wrist and begged me to go back to him…”

Spencer shook his head, hands worrying each other. “I told him no and he yelled at me. I eventually got out. I made it to my car and drove a few blocks, then I just broke down. I got home and locked myself in the bathroom, because I didn’t want Elle to find me so upset, because she’d go after Ethan and I don’t want her getting in trouble because I can’t handle myself. She’s always been there -- even when I was younger, she was basically my big sister. She’s always been there, and she’s very protective and I was scared I might lose her if I told her.” He falls silent, his tale done. His words spilled out so quick and fast, and Derek pulled him closer, gentle, soft. 

Inside, Derek was anything but, if Elle wouldn’t have gotten to Ethan, Derek would have. The bruising was similar to what Derek saw in the domestic abuse victims that stumbled into the ER that refused to press charges. He kisses his head, trying not to think too hard, too heavy. “Has he always done that?” 

“Only when he drinks.” Spencer said, quick to defend the other. Derek understood, he used to defend Carl Buford for  _ years _ \-- a hero, his ‘savior’, it wasn’t true. But it was how Derek could cope with it for a long time. “Which is often--” A sigh, “He, Elle and I used to live here together -- Ethan and I were dating at the time. When he gets drunk, he changes. When he’s sober he is kind and gentle and friendly, but when he’s drunk--”

“I know, pretty boy.” Derek nodded, sighing softly, though he wanted to fix this, make it better, take away the pain, he couldn’t. Spencer was finally opening up, he just wished it hadn’t been due to this.

Spencer shook his head, “I was bullied a lot growing up, and Ethan and Elle always kept me safe. I was a little kid, and they helped me and my mom. I graduated at 12 -- Elle was 17 and Ethan was 15. When he got a bit older, he started drinking, like his dad did. We started dating when I was 17 and he was 20. He was drinking a lot more, but until we lived together like that, I never knew what he was like. I think I rationalized it for a long time. I was scared, but things seemed okay. He wasn’t drinking as much. I got a job teaching and Ethan started playing piano, Elle bartended and sang. It was...well,  _ nice _ . Things went good, for a while When Ethan’s sister died... his drinking got worse. We were trying, Elle was going through school, though, and had a new boyfriend, and she wasn’t around much. He wasn’t bad to me, at first. Just yelling a bit, paranoia. I knew how to handle that. Things got worse as it went on, but I ignored the signs. Elle didn’t notice, she was so busy, and I think I hid it. He was so sweet when he wasn’t drunk...”

Derek knew where it was going, but he didn’t cut him off, now that Spencer was opening up, he wasn’t going to stop him. It was clear he hadn’t talked about it to anyone, at least, not recently. 

Spencer continued after a breath, “He wasn’t ever violent really, not for a few years, and then he went off, he grabbed me, accused me of cheating --with  _ Elle _ . He pushed me around a bit, I started crying, and he stopped, he just held me. He asked me to have sex once, I told him no, I didn’t want sex, it was gross. He got mad, claimed I just didn’t love him. It was where I drew the line. I told him that either he respected me, and cut down on drinking or I’d kick him out. He started yelling, and I told him to leave. Penelope came up an hour after he left, and she called Elle because I was just shaking too much. I didn’t date since...I was scared. I was really scared to get close to anyone. All I had was Elle. All I needed was Elle...after that, she got more protective, more here. I felt bad, but so did she. It was a mess.” He falls quiet and things settle, his breathing is calmer, his story has been told, and his body relaxes against Derek’s side. He slouches a bit. 

“Oh, kid…” He sighed, kissing his head. “You should have told me…” He whispered. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

Spencer shook his head, silence falling over them. His arms pulled them down so they were laying together, curled up in Derek’s arms. His breathing evened and he passed into sleep, but Derek didn’t until he knew the younger man was sleeping. A soft kiss to Spencer, to his boyfriend, as he let himself be pulled into sleep.

This would be fine. They would be fine.


	7. Alls Well That Ends Well

Things resettled, Spencer began to speak more of his own life -- of his mother and his father and life as a child prodigy in Las Vegas, he spoke of the bullying he suffered, of the cruelty of the idle hands of high schoolers. Derek spoke in piece and part on his own childhood, it took a while, and Spencer was patient, but he did open up about it all -- even Cal Buford. Weeks turned into months, Halloween came to pass and Thanksgiving was spent at both the Morgan family house in Chicago and at Bennington in Las Vegas. Life moved, the Earth turned, and Derek avoided getting shot -- again.

Thanksgiving turned to Christmas and Christmas turned to the new year and a Derek and him agreed that for the time they spent together -- they should move in when the lease was up at the end of the month. Plans were made, furniture consolidated and books, tragically, in Spencer’s mind, were parted with. Things were good. Derek and Spencer held hands, and he watched, as life went on and as the days passed, he felt the eyes as Spencer curled into his side at the park as he read, eyes idly flicking up to make sure Henry wasn’t running off too far.

A few months turned into nearly six, and the love didn’t fade. Date nights were a rock-paper-scissors match of ‘in’ versus ‘out’ (“Derek, you have a tell!” “It’s rock paper scissors, how do I have a tell?”), and Spencer often won, but conceeded enough that Derek was glad. Elle seemed to warm up to him, their banter becoming friendly, close. Derek moved into Spencer’s apartment (which was slightly larger than his) and the days sped past. Spencer was happy, Derek was happy. Life went on, the world turned. Ethan tried to come by once, but a threat from Derek was enough to send him packing. Derek took a few days off of work to fly to Las Vegas, alone, this time.

“Derek Morgan, I’m here to see Diana Reid.” He said, the nurse nodded, leading him to where the woman was reading by the window, “Diana? It’s me, Derek.” He said, voice calm, easily flowing despite the nerves he felt.

Her eyes turned to look at him, they were the same shade as Spencer’s, and Derek swallowed, even as her lips turned into a wide smile, “You want my blessing.”

“Yes. I know that it’s not traditional, and -”  
“He’s happy.” She cut him off, “He’s happier with you that he’s ever been. That is saying a lot for him. I’m happy, and my one request if you ask him to marry you is that you don’t make it a public spectacle. Spencer is a shy boy, he always has been. If you make it a public affair he won’t know what to do.” She said, her tone serious.

He nodded, in understanding. His plans had been much more subtle, private and small. “I won’t.” He said, sincerely, “It means a lot to me.” He nodded. The woman moved, embracing him with a joy. He spent a few more hours, discussing his thoughts on the ceremony (he didn’t want it big or extravagant, barely even wanting the wedding at all, but just to go to the courthouse and finalize it). He parted ways with her and flew back a day later, the simple silver band heavy in his pocket. It wasn’t fancy, or expensive, but Spencer wouldn’t like something fancy or expensive. 

He walked into the apartment, tired and smiling. He kissed the half-asleep man who had, obviously been waiting up, deciding a proposal could wait. 

It took a week for him to work up the courage for it. He knew Spencer had figured something was up, when they went for a walk, him sitting on the same bench in the same place they had that first date. It was simple, and cheesy, but Garcia was a genius and who was he not to oblige her? A swallow, taking Spencer’s hands, “Spencer, these months have been beyond amazing. You are beyond amazing. I know it’s only been six months, I know it seems fast or rushed, but, I’ve never felt this sort of  _ love _ before. Not for anyone…” A small breath, and he knows Spencer knows what is coming, his lips curling into a small shy smile already. “Marry me?” He asked softly, “Maybe not this month, or this year even. But  _ one day _ , will you marry me Dr. Spencer Walter Reid?”

A small, watery laugh escaped, and he nodded, slipping the ring on his finger, but the laughter turned louder, and he dug out a similar box, “I wasn’t sure who was going to get the chance to do it first. Derek, no one has ever accepted me as much as you -- you took my oddities and my quirks. You’ve never made me feel bad or weird. I love you, for all you do, and for all you don’t. I--” His voice cracks and he offers him the ring, “I don’t know if it’ll fit.” He laughed, softly, burying his face in Derek’s neck as he hugged him, pulling him close. “I love you, Derek Reese Morgan.  _ Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same _ .”

The whispered words sink deep into his heart, love forming and taking hold, taking deep roots. This was love -- this was love and it felt  _ wonderful _ and Derek was never going to give this up. He pulled his doctor closer, and sighed, softly, savoring this moment. The start of a new beginning.


End file.
